


Vinny on the move

by youcouldmakealife



Series: Vinny gets a life [9]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 07:44:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4213635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is, Thomas knows, a terrible idea. </p><p>“Okay,” is what comes out of his mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vinny on the move

**Author's Note:**

> This was almost titled 'Vinny is an idiot', but I felt like that title should be kept in reserve for the future.

The summer kind of goes as expected. Thomas is feeling drained, and selfishly wants to spoil the girls while they’re still in the same area code, so he sticks around. After a few attempts to try to talk him back up to Sudbury, his parents come down and stay for a bit in a hotel, since his apartment doesn’t really have the space. They even babysit the girls one night so Fourns and Chloe can get a night off, and Thomas is slightly amazed to find his parents in one piece when they return.

Fourns is unsurprised. “They raised you,” he says.

“Hey,” Thomas says.

“That was a compliment," Chloe tells him.

They get Connors, like Thomas thought they would. The rest of the transactions management makes are pretty minor, depth for depth, ones most of the fans would shrug at, but some of these guys have been sharing the room with Thomas since he came up. Thomas calls all the guys who are leaving, goes out for lunch with Bruno, who was in town when he found out he was going to the Oilers.

“Hey,” Bruno says. “At least I don’t have to worry about being sent down.”

Thomas pokes at his pasta.

“Stop that,” Bruno says. “Your face is depressing me.”

“Your face is depressing _me_ ,” Thomas says, which is both a bad retort and true. He hates this. He knows hoping that management doesn’t do anything over the summer is both unrealistic and probably not even for the best, but he still wishes for it every year.

“Quit playing with your food, Vinny,” Bruno tells him.

“You’re not my dad,” Thomas mumbles, but eats it.

*

Anton shows up at Thomas’ door in July.

Thomas blinks at him. He’s tan, hair lighter from the sun. All bulked up, because he’s a total nut about offseason training, like, even compared to everyone else, and strong-arms anyone within bullying distance into being active with him. “When’d you get in?” Thomas asks. He usually stays down in the States for the whole summer, and he didn’t even tell Thomas he was coming.

“Like an hour ago,” Anton says. “Are you going to let me in, or what?”

Thomas steps aside, but Anton hip checks him anyway when he passes him, reels him in for a bro hug. 

“My mom said I was too old to live in a ‘bachelor pad’,” Anton explains ten minutes later, while he eats the dinner Thomas had in the oven when he showed up. It was one serving. Thomas looks sadly on as it disappears. He doesn’t use finger quotes on ‘bachelor pad’, though he clearly wants to, and Thomas doesn’t know whether it’s because Anton considers himself above finger quotes, or because he’s busy eating Thomas’ dinner.

“We’re not too old,” Thomas frowns.

“When she was my age I was in kindergarten,” Anton says. “She’s got kind of a weird idea of old.”

Fair enough. “So you’re going to find somewhere else?”

“Figure it’s time to buy a house,” Anton says. “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. I want to get it done before training camp, so.”

“You want a second set of eyes?” Thomas asks. 

“Yeah, Vinny,” Anton says. “Sounds good.”

“Can I have my dinner back?” Thomas asks.

“No way, I’m starving,” Anton says. “I already mostly finished it, anyway.”

Thomas can see that. He frowns at Anton.

“Fuck, I’ll buy you dinner, stop making that face at me,” Anton says.

“What face?” Thomas says.

“You know exactly what face, you shit,” Anton says. 

Thomas reaches for his dinner. Anton slaps his hand away.

*

Once Anton’s set on something, it happens pretty quickly, and this is no exception. It’s less than a week later when Anton texts him an address and a time that is way too early in the morning, and Thomas obediently sets his alarm for an hour he doesn’t like to see during the offseason, and sleeps through it twice. 

Thomas ends up five minutes early only because he went without a shower and coffee, but Anton and the realtor are already talking outside. Anton’s got two Tim Hortons cups in his hands, and hands one off to Thomas without even looking over at him.

“You’re late,” Anton says.

Thomas doesn’t bother arguing that he’s actually early, because he’s busy inhaling his coffee. The caffeine free drive over was terrible. 

“What’d you do to your hair?” Anton says, and Thomas takes one hand away from his coffee to smooth it down, which is probably a lost cause.

“You’re a mess, Vinny,” Anton says.

“Shh, s’early,” Thomas mumbles, and they follow the realtor into the first house. It looks a lot like the place Bovard and his family have, actually, all modern and white. Thomas still has no idea how that house has survived four kids. He thinks Bovard and his wife might be magic, or just have a whole cleaning crew or something. 

Anton’s clearly not impressed, but he follows the realtor from room to room anyway, Thomas tagging along after them. 

“It’s nice,” he says, sceptically, at the end, and Thomas rolls his eyes at him.

“Where’s the next place?” Thomas asks.

Anton pretty much falls in love with the second place they check out. It’s big, but not crazy big like mansion he grew up in. It’s old, or like, old for Montreal, but the kitchen and the bathrooms have all been renovated. There’s a bar in the basement. Anton’s eyes practically have stars in them. It’s pretty obvious, to Vinny at least, that this is the end of the road for him, but the realtor says something about having time for a few more.

“Where to next?” Anton asks.

“Give us a second?” Thomas asks, and drags Anton away by the arm.

“You want this house,” Thomas says. 

“I’m supposed to see more than two houses,” Anton says, frowning.

“It’s not like, a rule,” Thomas says. “And you love this one.”

“I could love the next one more,” Anton says, but he doesn’t look convinced by his own argument. 

Thomas waves a hand dismissively at him.

“Do you like it?” Anton asks.

“It’s nice,” Thomas says. It isn’t necessarily what he would have chosen for himself, but it’s close, and it’s totally what he would have picked for Anton. The asking price makes Thomas wince, but that’s because it’s actually in the city, and Anton makes more than five times what Thomas does, so it’s not like it’s out of his price range or anything.

“But do you like it?” Anton presses.

“Yeah,” Thomas says. “It’s like the perfect house for you.”

Anton chews his lip for a minute. “I want you to like it.” 

“I said I did, like, twice, Tony,” Thomas says.

“Maybe you’ll like the next one more,” Anton says.

“But _you_ won’t, and you’re the one buying it,” Thomas points out.

“I want you to move in too,” Anton says.

Thomas blinks. “What?” he asks, finally.

“If I’m too old for a ‘bachelor pad’, you’re way too old,” Anton says.

“I’m not even a month older than you,” Thomas argues automatically. His brain’s still stuck on the first bit.

“It’s got the room,” Anton says. “Five bedrooms, so like, both of our families could stay.”

“Did you just suddenly think of this?” Thomas asks.

“No,” Anton says. “Anyway, it makes sense, doesn’t it? We know we make good roommates, and this way I won’t live off takeout.”

“Sure I won’t cramp your style?” Thomas asks, a little tentative.

Anton laughs. “What style?” he asks.

It is, Thomas knows, a terrible idea. He has a hard enough time with them living in each other’s pockets on the road. He should really say no. Say he prefers living alone, though Anton knows that isn’t true. Say he likes his apartment too much, and he does like it a lot, so maybe. Frankly, should probably tell Anton that he is way too gone on him for this to be anything close to a good idea, but he’s too much of a coward to do that, he’s fine admitting it.

“Okay,” is what comes out of his mouth.

Anton grins at him, wide. “Okay,” he says. “You have to come furniture shopping with me now. My mom says my couch is sad.”

His couch is a little sad. It’s comfy, though.

“It could go in the basement,” Thomas decides. “By the bar.”

“Yeah?” Anton asks, grin somehow getting even wider.

Thomas nods.

Anton makes an offer that day.


End file.
